The Preacher of Cedar Mountain: A Tale of the Open CountrySeton, Ernest Thompson
General
The Preacher of Cedar Mountain: A Tale of the Open Country
Seton, Ernest Thompson
Clergy -- Fiction; Great Plains -- Fiction; Western stories
The sun was high next day when the door of Pat Bylow's abode was opened,
and a man entered. The scene that met his eyes is better undescribed,
but to him it gave no shock. He came expecting to see it. In his hand he
carried a tin pail. There were men and women lying about the floor. He
stepped over them toward a tall form in soiled black clothes and knelt
beside it. Pouring some water on a cloth he laid it on the pale
forehead. The prostrate man opened his eyes and groaned.
"Mr. Hartigan," said the other. "It's me. It's Charlie Bylow. Won't you
be after having a drink of water?"
Hartigan raised himself on his elbow, peered out of his bloodshot eyes,
and drank eagerly. The cup was three times emptied.
"You better come over to my shanty and go to bed," said Charlie
seriously. The Preacher groaned:
"Oh! God what have I done? What have I done?" He clutched his throbbing
brow with both hands, as he rose and shakily followed Charlie.
"Oh! fool that I am. Oh, God! Ruined. All is ruined. I wish I were
dead!" he exclaimed. "Oh! God forgive me."
As they passed the fence where Blazing Star had been hitched, Hartigan
stopped and stared. Charlie said:
"It's all right, Mr. Hartigan, I took care of him. He is in the stable."
Coming to Bylow's house, Jim passed the entrance and went on to the
stable. With trembling hands he opened the door and hesitated. He half
expected Blazing Star to spurn and disown him. He was prepared for any
and every humiliation, but the long, joyous neigh that greeted him was a
shock, and a help.
"Oh! Blazing Star, if you only knew, you would not even look at me."
Charlie took the Preacher by the arm and led him to the house.
"Here, Mr. Hartigan, take off your clothes and go to bed. I will give
you a wet towel for your head and, by and by, I will bring you some
coffee."
"Oh! God be merciful, or strike me dead," and Jim broke down in an agony
of remorse. "This is the end. All I hoped for gone. I don't want to live
now."
"Mr. Hartigan, sure now I know how you feel. Ain't I been through it?
But don't be after making plans that are rash when you ain't just
yourself. Now go to bed and rest awhile," and his kind Irish heart was
wrung as he looked on the utter degradation of the manly form before
him, and the shocking disfigurement of the one-time handsome face.
Charlie and his wife left Hartigan alone. They shut the door and Charlie
went back to his brother's shanty to help the other victims of the orgy.
Jim tossed around uneasily, winning snatches of sleep, groaning,
talking, abasing himself.
"Oh, Belle!" he moaned aloud. "Will you ever look at me again? Oh, God!
And me a preacher."
Cedar Mountain was not so big but that every one knew everybody else's
business; and Mary Bylow understood when she heard the name "Belle." But
she didn't know just what to do. After an hour she again heard him.
"Oh! Belle, Belle, what will you say?"
Taking the hot coffee from the stove, Mrs. Bylow knocked at the door and
went in.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account